


They All Love The Pavi

by articulatez



Category: Repo! The Genetic Opera (2008)
Genre: Blood and Gore, F/M, Face Stealing, Ficlet, Murder, Sedation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 04:39:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18958048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/articulatez/pseuds/articulatez
Summary: Pavi enjoys an evening doing what he does best.





	They All Love The Pavi

Clear, unblemished skin: his world. Heart-shaped lips, kissed to a velvet softness. Her eyes were full of lust and hope, and he bent his head to kiss her with another’s mouth, brushed a gloved hand against her cheek. He tugged at her lower lip with his teeth.  
  
She hadn’t noticed the sedative… yet. She still imagined the evening would end with fucking in his bed. But his face, the face they all adored, and most of all adored by the Pavi, grew imperfect in time, and he had to take hers before the glow of passion faded from those lovely features.

She would close her eyes when the Pavi made love to her body. That’s when he put his mask up close, their eyes aligned, and imagined looking out from behind that face. Blinking her eyelids with the dark eyelashes, pressing that soft red mouth against a Gentern’s inner thigh, slipping his tongue through the mask to taste her. This always brought him careening to the edge, by picturing living within beauty.

He loves her more than he can show with just his touch. He has to immortalize her, and what better way than to bind her to him? She is so much more than her living body deserves. Her beauty should not be selfishly kept. Pavi has earned it. Pavi deserves this trophy. He loves her. She sees the knife now, and her eyes widen with fear and they freeze that way. She can’t stand from the couch. The muscles tense but can’t respond. She makes an animal noise in the back of her throat; with shushes, he cradles her body: this lithe, sinuous shell that is her head falling back, exposed neck, carved collar bone, and the pressures and weights of her shapes against his chest, and the netted legs that curve perfectly over his arm.

The Pavi takes her into a part of his bedroom she’s never seen, a room that he can clean with more efficiency. There are other women who belong to the Pavi, all beautiful and slumbering like princesses splayed gracefully across the floor and each other. He sets her down, her head against a woman’s ribs, and caresses her, temple to cheek and lips. He moves to a woman just in front of her, and the scalpel is in his hand.

“I am-a sorry, bella, that you have to see this. You did not close your eyes as the Pavi had hoped.”

She can’t move or speak or blink. She can do nothing as he crouches before the woman, tilts her head, angles the blade, begins to cut. The woman’s eyes are closed but there is a drunk flush to her skin, and where he cuts, she freshly bleeds. She’s alive, trapped in the shell of pain. Her eyes are closed peacefully and her mouth is smiling serenely as he traces along her jawline and up the sides. He cuts inside of her mouth and circles around her eyes. His hands are loving her clinically, possessively. The final cut is at her hairline. The whole operation is as clean as he can make it, but there is blood on his gloves and on his clothing.

Pavi’s lover feels tears falling from her frozen eyes as the hands that touched her so intimately delicately peels away that woman’s face. He looked on that face with so much glee, his smile from ear to ear, stretching the skin. She wonders if this is survivable… if she wants to survive without her beauty. He places the face on a metal table and sponges away the blood, cleans it thoroughly, sprays it with a liquid that will preserve its moisture in the antiseptic room.

The skinned woman is a mess of meat, her teeth exposed in a frightening grin. She’s monstrous, and soon Pavi will be perfect. Pavi flecks the blood from his gloves but shrugs at the state of his shirt. “Ah, well, it can’t be helped! Papa will pay for a new one. Now, who wants to be next?”


End file.
